“If you are a dreamer,come in. If you are a dreamer, a wisher, a liar, a hoper, a prayer, a magic-bean-buyer. If you're a pretender, come sit by my fire, for we have some flax-golden tales to spin. Come in! Come in!” ~Shel Silverstein

Tuesday, March 31, 2015

Let me tell you that by yesterday afternoon, when I was jonesing for a Pepsi like Kim Kardashian joneses for a selfie, I was getting cranky.

I wanted to cut someone.

Anyone.

Or punch them in the throat.

Just to see them cry.

But alas. I didn't.

I just had some more water and called my sponsor. Okay, I don't have a sponsor, but I have a friend who understands my needs and desires. I called Rachel. I talked hateful to her and badmouthed her customer service skills. She allowed the nonsense. She cheered for my water intake.

And that made me want to punch her too.

And when I thought about briefly getting an original chicken sandwich, no lettuce, extra mayo for a predinner dinner...

I didn't.

No, I did have a little moment of insanity right before bed. Heather told me I should have 2 fiber gummies to help me poop. Well, those little suckers taste SO delicious when you are deprived of deliciousness. So instead of 2, I ate 6.

And boy...am I regretting the decision this morning. Something is stinky in Pensacola. That's all I have to say about that.

The good news is, after one day of getting right with the food Gods, I feel svelte and foxy.

Monday, March 30, 2015

I have been tactfully trying to shed light unto this otherwise dark (so many puns, so many puns) topic for a couple of weeks. I have been trying to think of clever titles (Blackholes Begone) or just blatant shock titles...pretty much anything with the word Asshole in it.

But as I am a lady, and my father reads this blog (I'm not really worried about my mother, because when we broached the topic over lunch one day about shaving buttcracks, my mother wasn't shocked, just convinced that average buttcrack doesn't have hair), I decided against anything with the word ass in it.

So I just simply stated it as it needed to be stated.

Now, for those of you not "in the know" with what's "on trend" these days, apparently bleaching one's chocolate starfish is something that is becoming more common place.

It should also be noted, just in case it's not clear, I would try, and come to think of it, have tried, many things at least once. There are other things that I have not yet dabbled it, but if the opportunity arose I just might partake.

For example, if someone said "Amy, would you like to try corset training for 14 days?" Well, I might consider that. I've seen me in a corset. And it's rather amazing.

OR

If someone said would you like to try:

hair dye made of koolaid

American flag contact lenses

a new diet pill that may cause nipple hair

the "shocker" (note to my father AND mother: don't google it)

Well, I would probably try those things. I mean, I've tried raw oysters and mullet from a mason jar (I threw up immediately after the mullet, and I had tried to warn Heather's cousin Henry that I was going to puke if he made me eat it...but he didn't listen. Now we all have that memory).

But I ain't bleaching the butthole.

And let me tell you why.

Once, when I was probably 14ish, I worked at this marina at the lake. Lake Perry. It's in Kansas. It's basically a man made lake that usually looks like chocolate milk. Delicious. But anyways, I was working at this marina and would pump gas from time to time. Well this older ski boat pulled up and I was chatting away with the occupants while I pumped the propane into their little vessel. This was clearly tiring, so I sat down on the side of the boat while pumping and talking. Now, as this was an older model water vessel, the hole for the fuel was on top of the side railing. And as this was an older gas pump, it didn't have a shut off valve for when the fuel started coming close to the top.

Here. Let's look at this highly technical rendering I made for you in this highly technical program called 'Paint'.

That's me sitting on the boat. That black circle is where I was putting the pumped gas. Well, if you can see where this is going (sorry, I was just distracted by how absolutely amazing that picture is), as I was talking to the people in the boat (strangely missing from my amazing picture), the gas shot out of the hole.

Now this boat came equipped with teak embellishments that ran down the edge. Basically little wood runways for the now overflowing gas. I didn't move quick enough (shocking I know since I am known for my speed), and I was kind of heavy so therefore the front of the boat was a little out of the water and the back of the boat where I was sitting was a little more "submerged", so the gas ran down the side of the boat and although I am not sure of the physics or engineering of what I am about to claim happened, in my fear I must have sucked air not only in my mouth (like a gasp), but up my butt. Like a butt gasp.

Well, it gulped that gasoline right up the tailpipe. And while I have never gone along with "it's ONLY an out hole, not an IN hole" philosophy, I will tell you gasoline should never go up your butt.
It burns. It burns bad.

And while there was no permanent physical scarring, apparently there was some psychological scarring. Because to bleach one's butthole, well, it's exactly like it sounds. Someone, probably a tiny lady that doesn't really want to be rubbing your pucker, has to apply the bleach and rub it in. And then let it really sink in. And guess what? Depending on the darkness of your nether hole, well you MAY need up to 6 treatments.

Nope.

Not for me. It may be for you. And I support you. No one really sees my butthole though, so maybe I am not the target audience. Upon researching this topic however, I did learn that butthole bleaching is now leading to bleaching of the labia. Say what? There will be no turkey gobbler bleaching. Who wants chemicals that close to your "man in the boat" (read: clitoris) anyways? Mama likes her giblets just how they are.

So there. Now your Monday is complete. Now you know things you may have never really wanted to know.

Now you and I both know this is totally true. When you want to recommit, when you need to hop back on the BANDwagon, when you need to kick your bad habits to the curb...the only day you can embark on this new process is on a Monday.

And Monday it is my friends.

My little timehop app alerted me that a year ago I was just wrapping up a little weight loss competition at work..and by the grace of God (and 2 weeks of Atkins), I had touched 158 on the scale.

Now clearly, I wasn't going to MAINTAIN 158, but I had intended on staying in the 160's for the foreseeable future. But I think what happened was, I went batshit crazy and never came back to the land of healthy eating and "lifestyle changes". I mean, there was that brief stint in November of last year that I said I would lose 10 pounds that month, and I did...

but when mama falls off the wagon. She falls hard.

The truth is simple.

Healthy food choices are boring. Healthy food choices are not as delicious as things covered in melty cheese, stuffed with hot greasy meat, or bubbling with carbonation. THEY JUST AREN'T. And I can cook people. So I know about seasonings and this and that and blah blah. Health food just won't ever be yummy to Amy.

In addition to that fact...

Another simple truth is...

I may not be able to do the "everything in moderation" game. You know the one I am talking about. I have often spouted," It's not about saying I'm never drinking [insert something high calorie and wonderful] again, or eating [insert something that is so very bad for you that you want to be alone when you eat it, not so no one will witness it, but because you want to make sweet love to it]. " I don't want to have to make outlaws of the occasional Pepsi or candy bar. But I am just not good at moderation. I am a feast or famine kind of girl....usually more feast than famine.

But swimsuit season is coming up and I happen to look a little better around a small size 10 than I do at a large size 12.

I am still not weighing myself, almost 4 months without the death numerator. Which, another truth be told, DOES make it hard to start a slim-down routine. I can't really call it a weight loss routine because I don't know what I weigh and won't be using that measurement to determine success. But there is something perversely thrilling about seeing that "high" number when you decide to recommit and trying to get as far away from it as you can.

So my goal is to trim down the old bod by Memorial weekend...which starts May 22nd. That give me 7ish weeks? Perfect.

So what does this mean for me. For this week, I am not going to drink ANY soda. Instead, I will focus on my water. For this WORK week, I am not going to drink any beer or alcohol...I may still allow light drinking on the weekends. For this week I am not going to visit any fast food places. This habit has gotten a little out of control. And while my band still prohibits me from eating tons at any such place, it still isn't a healthy choice. I am going to make sure I have my meals planned . I am going to work on having healthy snacks to graze upon.

And that's my plan.

I am not changing anything fitness wise. I am working out at least 6 days a week...so we will stay with that.

I'm not calorie counting because I really want to replace one unhealthy relationship with food with another one.

So there we go. So how will I know I am succeeding? Well, I have jeans that only fit when I am on track. My work slacks fit different in the thighs when I am making better choices. And I can tell in pictures as well.

I will leave you with some pictures...as pictures always make a blog post more interesting.

I convinced the Vending Machine Man at work to stock our machine on the 2nd floor with crunchy cheetos. It only took me 4 months, but I make things happen. I do have to go down two flights of stairs to get the cheetos, so while I was snacking on them last Friday, I did an additional 9 flights to counteract at least a few of those delicious morsels. I made sure to take a selfie while doing it.

Pictured below is me and my back doing some assisted pullups. I can only do about 3 sans help.

Heather ran a 10-mile trail run on Saturday. Here she is with our friend D.J. I ran it last year. This year I napped in the truck and ate a snickers.

After the run I inflated our inflatable mattress and we sunned outside. Genius.

Today was leg day at the gym. I can get my heartrate up higher than when I am doing cardio. I love lower body workouts. I was dropping sweat like a grey cloud drops rain. It was awesome. And disgusting.

And timehop reminded me of how far I have come. There's some motivation for me.

Tuesday, March 24, 2015

Last week Katie J was talking about her hiatus from the gym...and it sparked the old fire in my brain. I tried to think back to when I was a gym newbie and tried to recall how I felt. Was I nervous? Was I intimidated? Did I fear that people were judging me because of my size?

Well, the answer is this....

There is something to be said for being a legend in your own mind. My foreray into gym-dom was in my late teens, early 20's I would guess. I lost about 75 pounds (not to worry, I would eventually gain it back plus 70 more), by diet and going to the YMCA. I remember killing it on the cardio machines. And I don't really remember caring or thinking that others were judging me. I probably thought I was a plus-sized gym super model. But, as I think about it, I don't remember ever working much in the free weight section. I stuck to the weight machines.

And then after the lapband, that's when I started bootcamp. Little did I know that I was being lured there by a cute little lesbian that would turn that bootcamp into a lifelong commitment. I DO remember being intimidated by that setting a little. Because I knew there would be some form of running, and mama hadn't ran in years. But I got over it and I survived. And then what was new and scary became a habit...and wasn't scary at all.

The point of all of this reflection is that if you are avoiding the gym for fear of judgement, fear of looking out of place, or fear of dying...here's what you should know.

1. People are probably judging your fashion sense more than your size or shape. At least I am. If you are killing it and working it out in the gym, it will be a rare person that is thinking about how you are "out of shape", or "too fat", or "too old". They will most likely be admiring your determination. Some of them will be wishing they had what you had. This is the truth.

2. The really fit people at the gym aren't plodding away on the dreadmill thinking that they are better than you. Well, some of them might be. But they are stupid and thus, you are better than them. Their opinions don't matter. But take Heather. I have never once heard her make a snarky comment about any out-of-shape-but-working-on-getting-in-shape person. On the other hand, I have heard her make plenty of comments about the IN shape people walking around like douchebags.

3. It's only new for a few days. One of the scariest things about any situation is not knowing the logistics of the gym or class. Where do I go? What do I do when I get there? What is protocol? After a few days you will know what's where and who's what. On your first day, just walk in like you have been there a million times. Walk to the bathroom, scanning the space like a covert secret agent. You will feel like everyone knows you are new. I bet half of them feel the same way as you.

4. If you don't know what to do with the machines or weights, do something you DO know how to do...then watch. So walk on the treadmill. Do the elliptical. And just take it all in.

5. Free weights are particularly scary for a lot of women, because a lot of women don't DO free weights. It's a damn shame. But the free weight section, the Smith machines, the weight racks are usually dominated by men...which can be intimidating as well. Just rest assured that at least 33% of the men are probably gay...so they aren't looking at you anyways. Also, I feel that by venturing into the free weight section, you automatically earn gym cred from men AND women. But, there are so many good magazines and books out there to look at and study BEFORE you even step foot into the gym. I used to love the magazines Oxygen and Muscle & Fitness Hers. They come with great workouts and pictures. You can also buy books about lifting on Amazon. I love this series:

It breaks down exercises, tells you what you are working, and how to work it. You can try the movements at home and get the feel before you ever step foot in a gym. Then, if you want more of a visual, google the move. Google & youtube are great avenues to research what you want to do.

6. A personal trainer may be a great investment. Find one you like. Find one that targets what you want. Trainers can be expensive, but they can also be a motivator. They can help you until you feel comfortable on your own.

7. Gyms may not be your thing. Maybe you are motivated to do videos (I certainly am not...it's too easy to quit when I am in my own living room). Maybe you want to shake it at Zumba. Regardless, having a workout buddy or partner is such a plus. If you can find a good workout buddy, lock them down.

8. I know some of you are not morning people. But damn...it makes a difference. And let me tell you, the gym is a lot less crowded at 5am than it is at 5pm. And for me, if I wait until after work to workout, that workout is probably not happening.

9. Make the time. We often find time for the things we enjoy or hold the most importance in our lives. We find time to watch the DVR, take a nap, read blogs, etc. Make time to workout. I like to combine my cardio with a little Netflix or HBOgo. I take my iphone or ipad to the gym, get on Wi-Fi, and what my favorite programs. It makes the time go by at a little faster nip.

and finally.

10. When you are at the gym, just ACT like you know what in the hell you are doing. It works for me most of the time. And there are times that I try a new "move" or workout and I know right off the bat that I have no clue what I am doing and did not practice at home enough. But I'll be damned...I usually finish my set and walk off like a boss.

Working out is like eating better. You know how when you are onpoint with your eating...even for just 1 day...you feel like you are super fine? That's what working out will do for you as well! And..this is what else keeps me motivated...the more you can workout, the more conditioned your body, the more muscles you have, the more calories you burn...

The more calories you can eat without blowing the seams out of your pants.

Wednesday, March 18, 2015

So, each year here in good old Pensacola, there takes place a run for St. Patricks day called the McGuires Prediction Run. It is just a 5k, and you predict your finish time and whomever finishes closest to their predicted time...wins. And a few people show up for this run...somewheres around 13-17 THOUSAND people. And for the most part, the majority of them will be drunk in under an hour. Although I have been a Pensacolian since 2006, I personally have never participated in this race for two reasons.

#1. Thousands of drunk people crammed into a parking lot sounded like a nightmare and...

#2. I was secretly worried that I would have to fist fight one of Heather's 423 ex-girlfriends who used to pop up on our outings and try to touch what is mine.

But this year...I had a new attitude.

#1. Instead of letting drunk idiots annoy me, I WOULD BE one of the drunk idiots. and...

#2. I am secure enough in my relationship and Heather's love for me that I don't have to worry about dirty old ex-girlfriends anymore.

In fact, the night before as we were cuddling on our little couch I said to Heather...

Me: "It only took 5 years, but I finally trust you and believe in your love enough that we can I feel confident in doing the McGuires run".

Heather: "Good. I've finally got you right where I want you....took long enough".

She thought that was hilarious.

I did not.

So here is our posse. Seriously, I know that Rachel, Bethany, and I look like we just rolled out of bed looking precious, but it took us at least a month to build that outfit. Heather and Toddrick are twinsies, and that's good old Beau Beau on the end. He's our sober sister. He no drinkie. Ever.

Me and the little lady. Notice my rear toe point?

I was worried my lady lips might be on display in my green panties. But it turns out...they were bundled up and out of the way...Toe point.

Yes. An action shot.

Well, here's what happened. We were really thirsty. And so we found a bar around mile 1.25 and bought some vodka and o.j. It was probably 9:30 in the morning. Did I mention this was the best race ever?

Now, once you finish (which are prediction time was 37:04 to allow for the crowd, but we actually finished in 59 MINUTES and that is with cutting off a mile by taking a shortcut...but anyways, once you finish you get unlimited Irish Wakes. They are this delicious concoction of 3 different kinds of rum, blue Curaco, and orange juice. Rachel is demonstrating how to drink two at the same time. Sometimes we make our life partners so proud. I had at least 7 of these little juices.

Okay...maybe I had more than 7. WHO'S COUNTING?

On our walk back to the car, we had to cross train tracks. TOE POINT.

But the fun wasn't over. Back to the hizzie for more fun. Ladder Golf. That's Bucci. He's from Italy. You may call him the Italian Stallion.

And finally, one with Heather smiling that pretty smile...and Bucci trying to determine what's really up that skirt...

Thursday, March 12, 2015

Tough Mudder Gulf Coast 2015 is in the books. Let me tell you...that sucker felt every bit of the 10.3 miles they said it was. It took us 5 hours to complete! 5 HOURS PEOPLE! But that is because we stayed together as a group and ended up walking the majority of the course...which is fine with me...except that at some point...oh...say hour 4...you are so ready to be done!

It was cold morning for P-Cola...in the lower 40's when we were starting, so Boobsweat (our friend Natalie) and Heather were bundled up and decided to skip all obstacles involving water. Which, was really fine with all of us because when Heather is cold, she is miserable...and when Heather is miserable...well...it's scary and thus...the rest of us are miserable as well.

So skip those water obstacles sweet sugarpie.

Here is a recap...in no particular order.

Pictured below is Funky Monkey 2.0. Our first Tough Mudder I made it about 4 rungs up...and then fell like the bottom heavy woman I am. So after that ego deflating moment, I decided to really focus on my upper body strength. This year, they have amped up the Funky Monkey (hence the 2.0) and half way across you have to trapeese swing to a suspended parallel bar. Challenge accepted. Good new is I mounted that swing like the born gymnast I am...and I made the long reach with my stubby arms to the bar. I shimmied about 3/4 of the way down, almost to the platform you end on...and I fell. I kinda psyched myself out bc I was swinging like a monkey and didn't have much control and was worried I would smack that platform with my head...but I was pretty proud of my performance, as there were very few girls that made it that far...and the ones that did...well the junk in their trunk was significantly less than my junk.

I was thrilled however to see that the photographer caught my batwing in forward motion. Looks like a damn pancake.

This is the Arctic Enema 2.0. This year, instead of jumping into the ice dumpster, you slide down the slide with a fence over you. Dustin said to me before we went "Let's hold hands the entire time." To which I said OKAY. Well as soon as we hit that water he dropped my hand like a bad habit and afterwards I said "I thought we were holding hands the entire time"...and he said "Didn't we"? It's so cold dudes. Painful cold.

The damn electric shock. As a Legionairre (someone who has done Tough Mudder more than once), we have the option of bypassing this last obstacle. But Heather wanted to do it. And she wanted me to do it with her. This is what she looks like when she does it. Oh...I am a model. This is so easy.

And this is what I look like. I had just gotten shocked and was in the process of eating the mud below with my face.

This was prereace. Me...no sleeves. Heather...bundled for snow.

A couple more of the Funky Monkey.

Getting ready to grab the swing.

This was a new obstacle called Beached Whale. It's like a big pillow. Everyone was hemming and hawing about mounting it...so I ran as fast as I could and made a leap to our people at the top. Basically I made it two inches high, ran smack into the side, and bounced off. Not to worry...my team came and helped me up.

This was a great picture of Everest that was in our newspaper. It takes a great deal of teamwork for most of us to make it up. That's my boy Waynie Poo dangling by Bucci's thumb.

And finally...after the race. Enjoying the sun and the one free beer and waiting to go eat...

Food. Yes. Texas Roadhouse. Come to mommy. How does Rachel's hair look that good after a race?

Monday, March 9, 2015

Survivor has been on for 464.2 million seasons, and Heather and I still enjoy it. It's kinda of mindless entertainment, perfect for decompressing after a long Wednesday. Well, years ago I heard that contestants are allowed to take one "luxury" item with them. Something small of course. No one can take a memory foam mattress or deluxe travel trailer...but this always has me me thinking...

What would I take?

What would YOU take?

I really don't have to think long because I know...I KNOW...what I would take.

My tweezers.

I mean seriously. I can't even begin to tell you about the facial hair situation that would occur by day 3...let alone final tribal council with I am on the cusp of winning 1 million dollars.

It would look something like this:

I mean...

I'm not kidding.

And then, I would need my little 10x magnifying mirror or else other contestants would have to pluck my chin hairs for me OR I would have to find a clam shell and shine the shit out of it to make it into a mirror or something...

But these are the serious things I think about when I am supposed to be thinking about serious things.

In other news, we completed our 4th Tough Mudder this weekend. And I will be regaling you shortly with the recap.

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Welcome To Amyville

I am a chronic make-believer. I amuse myself. I break out in random song at least 6 times an hour. I am me. I was banded on 1/27/2009. I look better tan. I am a mermaid. I believe you should give more than you take, laugh more than you cry, and eat cheetos when the urge arises. I have always been a dreamer. Life is unpredictable and I realize everyday how lucky I am. I think you should walk with your head up, shoulders back, look people in the eye, smile, have a good handshake, and be honest. I love cold sheets, colder air conditioning, swimming, my family, my animals, and my friends.